There’s something about a 25-pound Bengal cat named Muggles that strikes fear into my soul. Not just because he’s the size of a small lion, but because I’m 100% convinced he’s got me wrapped around his paw—and maybe, just maybe, he’s plotting my ultimate demise.
Now, before you roll your eyes, let me explain how this oversized cat has gradually taken control of my life, my home, and my sanity. If you don’t hear from me after this blog, please assume Muggles has succeeded in his mission.
Step 1: The Intimidation Factor
Muggles isn’t your average house cat. At 25 pounds, he’s a Bengal behemoth who walks with the confidence of a tiger and has the stare of a seasoned mob boss. When he looks at me, I swear I hear the Godfather theme playing in the background. His eyes seem to say, “You work for me now, human.”
And guess what? I do.
It started innocently enough. A casual pet here, a friendly treat there. But soon, I realized that every interaction with Muggles was a test of my obedience. I’m pretty sure he’s spent the last several years calculating exactly how to control my every move.
Step 2: Then There's the Dog
I have a sweet 5lb Biewer Terrier, named Fergus. He's the tiniest, most loving boy ever. He
absolutely adores his big brother, and at times, the feeling is mutual. But, just like human siblings there is love and there is.... Muggles loves to draw Fergus in and give him a loving bath, then, out of the blue, Muggles decides he’s had enough and goes in for the kill. Really, he turns into such a bully. Muggles has been known to walk by a sleeping Fergus and, like a thug, jumps him with full claws and teeth. again, jumps him. Thankfully, there's never been blood, but this has to stop, I'd rather the attention be on me (gulp).
Step 3: The Furniture Takeover
I used to have my own favorite chair. It was my sanctuary—a place where I could relax after a long day. But now? Now it’s Muggles’ throne. The moment I even think about sitting in it, Muggles is already there, stretched out in all his majestic glory, staring at me like I’m the intruder in my own home.
It’s become clear that the entire house belongs to Muggles. I’m just the tenant paying rent in belly rubs and salmon treats.
Step 4: The "Accidental" Tripping
Here’s where it gets suspicious. Muggles has perfected the art of “accidental” tripping. Any time I’m walking down the hallway or—heaven forbid—carrying something fragile, he appears out of nowhere and sticks his paw out, expertly reaching between my ankles. I haven't fallen, yet, but each time I turn around to scold him for such antics, I swear he's smiling from ear to ear.
Some people think cats do this for attention. But let me tell you, with Muggles, I’m convinced this is part of a larger strategy. He’s testing my balance—gauging my weaknesses. The day I finally trip over him will be the day his plan comes to fruition. “Oh, poor human,” he’ll think, “should’ve been more careful.”
Step 5: The Plot Thickens
Then there’s the watching. Muggles has this unnerving habit of sitting in the corner of the room, just watching me. No blinking. No movement. Just staring, with that smug Bengal face. What is he thinking? Why is he just... there?
I’ve developed a theory. I believe Muggles is secretly plotting something much bigger than taking over my favourite chair. Perhaps he’s organizing a feline uprising, or worse—waiting for the right moment to trip me for real. He’s already trained me to feed him on command, surrender my chair, and wake up at ungodly hours. What’s next?
World domination?
Step 6: The Ultimate Flex: The Meow of Command
You’d think, being a human and all, I’d have the upper hand when it comes to communication. But no. Muggles has one powerful weapon that I’ve grown to fear: his meow.
It’s not just a sound—it’s a command. Each meow has a very specific meaning, and I’ve become fluent in Muggle-ese. There’s the “feed me” meow, the “open this door right now” meow, and, my personal favorite, the “You’re late and now I’m mad” meow. I know better than to ignore him. The consequences involve relentless, guilt-inducing stares and an unholy level of persistence.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve rearranged my schedule to accommodate his demands.
Step 7: The Suspicious Disappearances
Sometimes, Muggles vanishes for hours. I’ll look all over the house, calling his name, only to find him perched high on a shelf, observing me from his vantage point like a feline James Bond. Is he surveying his territory? Perhaps using these hours to plan his final move?
His stealth is alarming. I’m convinced these are reconnaissance missions for whatever he’s plotting. Maybe he’s figuring out how to finally trip me once and for all. Or maybe he’s just enjoying watching me squirm.
Conclusion: Should I Be Worried?
At this point, it’s obvious that Muggles has me thoroughly trained. I obey his every command, surrender my seat on demand, and walk on eggshells to avoid triggering his displeasure. Am I paranoid? Maybe. But when a 25-pound Bengal is in control of your household, can you really afford not to be?
With all these incredible ingredients at my disposal, I had a thought—why not collaborate with our lab to create something that could help calm this wild boy? And so, Feline Easy Calm was born. This carefully crafted blend of functional mushrooms, ashwagandha root, and a touch of our proprietary oil turned out to be the perfect solution to soothe Muggles’ fiery temperament and save me from my impending doom.
I have to say, this formula works wonders—life is peaceful again... or at least, as peaceful as it can be with a Bengal. As a bonus, thanks to the powerful benefits of functional mushrooms, I’m confident I’ll have many more years of loyal servitude to this majestic boy—and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
(But I’ll keep one eye open, because I’m pretty sure Muggles is just biding his time. Stay alert, fellow humans. The cats are coming).
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